


Possessive

by Lovedmoviesb



Series: Richonne AUs [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Just an excuse to be thirsty on main, Michonne likes it a lot, Rick in a bathrobe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovedmoviesb/pseuds/Lovedmoviesb
Summary: Rick gets a bathrobe of his own. Michonne finds a way to coerce him into keeping it in the house.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne
Series: Richonne AUs [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1426960
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Possessive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msdoomandgloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdoomandgloom/gifts).



“Rick!” a laugh ripped up her throat, sending Michonne’s whole body shaking. “What are you wearing?”

She paused in the living room, tilting her head to take in her lover. 

Rick tilted his head right back at her, hair flopping. She longed to brush the errant curl off of his face, but there were more pressing concerns. 

“What?” he challenged, tugging at the thick terry cloth wrapped around him. “You have one. I thought maybe we should match.”

Michonne considered this, choking down the chortle working its way to her lips. Rick was shrouded in a crimson bathrobe much like her own coveted indigo one, looking entirely too comfortable. 

“Red is your color,” she had to agree. “But the boots?”

“I ran outside to check on something,” he explained. 

“Through the front door?” she questioned, suddenly alarmed. 

He shrugged. “Yeah,” Rick confirmed. “Why?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. The scarlet cloth crawled further up his thighs, exposing tawny hair plastered across the muscles of his quads. She could see the ebon fabric of his underwear, just visible to the naked eye. 

“Did the neighbors see?” Michonne asked. 

Rick shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe a few of them. Why?”

“With your legs out?” Michonne pressed. 

Rick raised a brow. “What’s wrong with my legs?” he challenged. 

He hiked the robe up further, looking down at the limbs in question. 

“Nothing,” she imparted. A curious cocktail of emotions roiled through her. 

“Then what’s the problem?” Rick asked, unaware. 

Michonne stepped closer to him, toying with the tie of his robe. She worked it open, trailing her hands to the hem of his black boxers. 

“Michonne,” Rick called her name. There was a hint of something in the deep rumble of his voice that settled in the pit of her stomach like hot embers. 

“You let everyone see this?” Michonne questioned. She ran her hands up his sides, tracing the scar tissue and muscle beneath his skin. 

Rick tilted his head further, understanding dawning. “No,” he drawled, his hands coming to rest on her jean-clad hips. “This is only for you.”

He leaned forward, his lips catching hers. Michonne allowed it for a moment, reveling in the delicious scrape of his silver beard against her. She tangled her hands in the slicked-back chestnut curls of his hair and Rick groaned outright, jerking her harder against him. Heat gathered between them, underscored by the hard press of his length against her. 

“You sure?” she asked against his mouth. She trailed her hands down, lightly skirting against him. His hips stuttered towards her. 

“Only you,” he confirmed on something like a growl. 

His fingers dug into her waist. Michonne allowed it for a moment. Rick began to worry at the button of her jeans, unfastening them with practiced finesse. She danced backwards, smiling mischievously. 

“Michonne,” Her name was rough in his mouth. “Come here.” He attempted to pull her back against him. 

The house was blessedly empty and Michonne intended to take full advantage. With authority she seized his shoulders, guiding him onto the couch beneath him. She watched, not bothering to hide her smirk as Rick’s pupils dilated. 

“Darling,” he grunted. “What are you doing?”

She settled on her knees, running her hands down his legs to the tips of his boots then back up. She curled her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, working them down. He sprang free, straining eagerly towards her. 

“If you want to show off,” she began, biting her bottom lip, “You can always come see me.” 

Rick was flushed and panting, hair disheveled. His blue eyes were on her, looking at her as though he wanted to tackle her right then and there. She took a moment to commit the sight to memory. 

Rick’s hand laced in her locs as she leaned down, hell bent on proving her point. He groaned in response, hips bouncing off the cushions. 

“Was waiting for you to get home,” he explained through clenched teeth. “I wanted to--”

His sentence ended in a moan as Michonne worked her lips down. She braced herself on his bare thighs, digging her nails in. 

“Michonne,” he grunted. “Fuck--”

Michonne doubled her efforts, licking him from root to tip. He threw his head back against the cushions. 

“This is just for you darling,” he promised her, urging her down again. His hips came up to meet her. 

Michonne only hummed. She continued on with fervor, reaching down to cradle him. 

“All for you,” he reiterated with a grunt. 

Michonne hollowed her cheeks, sighing at the feeling of his calloused fingers in her hair. 

“Fuck,” he repeated, trembling in her embrace. “God Michonne. I—“

She came up for air with a gasp, laughing as Rick’s hands immediately went to work at her clothing. He jerked down the zipper of her jeans, working them down her legs frantically. She assisted him, stepping out of them before tugging her shirt off. Her bra and panties ended up in a twisted pile at their feet. Michonne settled in his lap, flinging the edges of his robe wide open. 

“Whose is this?” she questioned, taking him in her hands. 

“Yours,” Rick answered at once. He gripped her thigh with one hand, the other sneaking around to smack her soundly on the ass. With authority, he urged her up then tugged her down again. 

Michonne cried out as he filled her, falling forward into him. 

Rick smirked, satisfied as his hips began to move, his lips burning a path up her exposed skin. 

“Who does this belong to?” he demanded, working his hand between them to stroke her. 

Michonne’s voice caught, but she managed a response. “You,” she grit out, legs burning as she bounced in his lap. 

“Good,” Rick jerked her forward, pressing his mouth to hers. “As long as we agree.”


End file.
